It Happened On a Thursday
by EndlessInspiration
Summary: For the first time Kurt Hummel is spending his mothers anniversary away from his father at Dalton Academy, and feels more alone than ever. Dealing with the loneliness all on his own, will Kurt find comfort in an unexpected visit from a new friend?


Kurt Hummel stood in front of the glass window, his even breathing casting a thin layer of fog on the cool, winter chilled glass. Snowflakes drifted lazily in slow swirling formation from the black early morning sky. It was so early in the morning that the moon still had an appearance in the sky, the whole student body of Dalton Academy still asleep. Well, all except for Kurt.

Kurt watched the soothing morning view with a blank expression, his eyes wet with tears he refused to let fall. Emptiness sat low in his chest like a heavy weight, a horrible reminder of what exactly this day was. Sadness and grief were seeping through his veins like a quick traveling poison, filling him with an icy numbness. Memories were being pulled out of their repression, forcing him to face that which he usually tried to forget during the year. That is, until this day of year came around. Than it was nearly impossible to forget.

It had happened on a Thursday. Kurt was eleven years old. His mother had been driving to the supermarket, probably to get ingredients for a new baking recipe. She had loved to bake. His mother was always one to experiment in the Kitchen, always resulting in rather strange and unique dinners and baked goods around the house. It was one of the many things he missed.

He had been assured many times that it was an accident. Simply bad luck. The driver of the other car was drunk, and had been charged. He had also been told may times not to worry about the crash. Apparently the impact of the other car was so great and fast, she hadn't been in pain long, if not at all. It was probably instant.

All of these didn't change that fact that his mother had been killed.

The cliché drunk driver. The kind of story you hear on the news and barely stop to think of the person who died. The kind of thing that some people will stop to think about how "unfortunate" the accident was but then move on with their lives. It wasn't just some random woman who had died that day. It was Kurt's mother. The person Kurt loved possibly more than anyone else in the world, gone in an instant. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

Kurt cursed the tears as they began to unwillingly fall, splashing hot down his cheeks, blurring his vision of the moonlight snowfall. Kurt tried to take in a deep breath, which turned into a shuddering sigh. His limbs were beginning to shake.

It surprised Kurt that it still hurt the same after all these years. He had been assured by both friends and therapists that it got easier. You would learn to move on with your life, accept that your mother was gone and move on. Not Kurt. Not when it came to his mother. He could spend all year avoiding thoughts of her, him and his father doing just fine on their own. But when the anniversary rolled around every December, the memories came back like a strong punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and pained. All the memories came back.

Kurt could almost hear her laugh. Feel the way her soft hands would expertly brush the hair off of his forehead, followed by a kiss just there. How she would smile when he came home from school, laughing at his intricate, detailed stories of the day. He remembered the awe he felt when his mother had taken him to his first Broadway show, and how she smiled when he told her that was what he would do when he was older. He could remember his father coming home everyday and kissing her. Kurt would say "ewww" as all young children do but smile anyways because he knew that gesture meant love. But all that had disappeared.

Kurt walked quietly over to his desk, sinking down into the cool plastic chair, tears still unwilling to stop. The lump in his throat was painful now. He tried to swallow it away, but it was no use. He sniffled, his nose now snotty and running. Kurt hated crying.

Kurt looked down at his neat desk, the Dalton Academy crest shining proudly on the front of one of his binders. Kurt then realized this was his first anniversary away from home. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back a sob.

Anniversary mornings were usually tough. Kurt always woke early, along side his father, who would go to work early on these days. He only once admitted to Kurt that this was because he needed a distraction. The morning would be one full of silence, awkward yet knowing glances, and a long, comforting hug before his father left. Kurt would then try and fail at distracting himself by planning outfits, singing show tunes and cleaning. Usually after this little spectacle of normalcy, Kurt would sneak into his father's room. He would open up all his mothers' drawers, lie on the floor and just smell her. He'd remembered her scent, her smile, the feel of her arms hugging him. He'd cry for a good half hour before finally leaving for school, where his friends would await him with more sympathy and distractions.

But nobody knew of his past at Dalton. Blaine knew Kurt didn't have a mother, as Kurt told him about the wedding, but he didn't know why. Kurt was grateful Blaine had never asked, because even after all these years he didn't like to talk about it. It seemed no amount of grieving was ever enough. Though Blaine knew Kurt had no mother, he didn't know that she had died in an accident, or that the anniversary of that accident was today. Kurt felt more alone than ever. He had never had to face this on his own before.

Kurt looked around his desk, needing a distraction before the crying got worse. He picked up an unopened package his father had sent the previous day. Kurt, too exhausted to be bothered after a long Warblers practice, had dismissed it and fallen asleep, leaving his uniform unceremoniously crumpled on the ground, even forgetting about his nightly skin care routine.

Kurt opened the package slowly, pulling the cardboard tab out of the box top before siding its contents slowly into his hand. The unknown heavy item landed in his hand, his fingers meeting cool gold metal. Kurt pulled the whole thing out of the box, realizing it was a picture frame. A note on the back of the frame read:

"_You left yours at home, so I thought you might like this. Its my favorite. Love, Dad_"

Kurt gulped when he turned the frame over, gazing with suddenly blurry eyes at the image held behind the glass. It was of a woman and a little boy, standing in a sunny park. A red and white blanket was just out of view, a blue cooler box on top. The woman was wearing a white sundress, her short brown hair pinned back as she smiled, her blue eyes gazing at the little boy. The young boy had his bangs pushed off of his face in their usual fashion, blue eyes so much like the woman's were squinted at the corners as he smiled. Though he was at a park, he was wearing grey dress pants, a tucked white collared dress shirt, and a pink and green bow tie. The boy held a large piece of watermelon in his hands, the pink juice staining the cuffs of his shirt.

The picture was of Kurt and his mother. Kurt had been six years old.

Kurt gasped as a sudden attack of sobs hit him, the lump in is throat hard to swallow back. Soon his shoulders were shaking as quiet cries wracked his body in never ending waves. Kurt lowered his head to the desk, the picture pushed to the side. He wrapped his arms around his body, holding himself together as he was emotionally falling apart. Tears streamed quickly down his cheeks. The sobbing didn't stop.

Memories were playing in his mind like an enchanting, haunted movie. Thoughts of his mother were invading his mind, the pain lashing at Kurt's heart each time he realized he would never make new memories, that this wonderful woman didn't exist in his life anymore. That his mother was gone, and he was all alone.

Why did it have to be _his_ mother? Why did _he_ have to suffer? Kurt cried over the unfairness of it all, anger burning in his veins, his fists clenched. He needed her. He needed his mother in his life but she was gone. She was never coming back.

Kurt felt a light pressure on his shoulder and he jumped up, gasping as he wiped his blurry eyes, his body still shaking from sobs. He wiped his eyes long enough to make out the sight of something he never expected. Blaine.

Beautiful Blaine, with his dark curls, warm smile and piercing hazel eyes. The boy who had been everything for Kurt these last few months: a mentor, a confidant, a guide, but most importantly, a friend. Like a beacon of hope in the clutching darkness, he was standing in Kurt's open doorway, dressed in track pants and a plain black t-shirt, staring, but not harshly so. Kurt opened his mouth to say something, to try and explain the predicament he had been caught in but something in Blaine's eyes had stopped him. Instead of forming words, Kurt's eyes just fell down to his desk, finding the frame. Kurt started quietly crying again.

Somewhere in Kurt's mind, behind the haze of grief and sadness, he felt embarrassed. Every meeting he had with Blaine, he felt like he had always been upset or crying. He must have seemed pathetic. Kurt fully expected the flabbergasted Blaine to simply leave the room, to hopefully leave Kurt and his sorrow alone. He didn't, and Kurt knew deep down that Blaine would never leave.

Instead he walked quietly over to Kurt's desk, and surprisingly, took his hand. Kurt felt the pressure of Blaine's fingers, twining with his own. Kurt offered a small squeeze back, and was surprised when Blaine didn't let go. Kurt clutched the hand tightly then, as his body shook with quiet sobs. Blaine's hand was like a life line that Kurt could ever let go of.

Kurt gazed upwards through his tears, his chest heaving painfully with silent cries and shudders. His eyes met Blaine's, and Blaine didn't look away. His eyes had a sort of openness to them, a sense of comfort that Kurt desperately needed.

With no words being said, Blaine pulled Kurt shakily to his feet. Kurt was trying to stop crying. The sobbing was over for now, mostly out of embarrassment, but he couldn't stop the tears. Blaine had pulled Kurt close to him, into a warm, unexpected hug. Kurt could feel Baines body pressed against his, feel his warmth, his breath, his untamed hair tickling his cheeks, and his warm breath when he whispered in Kurt's ear.

"Its okay." Blaine murmured next to Kurts ear. "I'm here."

Kurt didn't know how they had ended up lying on his bed. All he knew was that he was crying again, and Blaine was there. Kurt had his head buried in Blaine's shoulder and Blaine held on tighter as Kurt's sobbing intensified. Wandering hands rubbed soothing patterns on Kurt's back, coaxing comfort out of the broken boy. Kurt felt Blaine shift slightly, his lips hitting the side of Kurt's temple as he whispered words of comfort into his ear, warm breath dancing across Kurt's face. Kurt was breaking down, and Blaine was the one holding him together.

The two boys stayed like this for quite some time, and soon Kurt was done crying. The whole ordeal had left him feeling utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Kurt felt Blaine move again so that the boys were laying side by side, though Kurt's head still stayed near Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine's arm was pinned between Kurt's hip and the mattress. Their faces were inches apart. Blaine moved closer and Kurt's heart jumped as he felt brief pressure of lips on his forehead, disappearing only to suddenly be on his cheek. Blaine's lips carried away any excess tears, traveling across his face from cheek to cheek, leaving Kurt momentarily forgetting why he had been crying in the first place. Blaine pulled back, his eyes sparkling in the early morning moonlight, wide and attentive. Kurt closed his tired eyes, only for a moment, more unwanted memories playing behind closed lids. Kurt opened his eyes again, feeling embarrassed as he shed a few more tears, shifting so the moonlight hit his face.

Eyelashes fluttered softly on alabaster skin, the stark black and white contrast illuminated by natural moonlight. The moisture glassing over blue eyes only made them look more intense and Blaine couldn't stop the quiet gasp that fell from his slightly gaping mouth. Kurt's skin was white and shining, seemingly free of imperfection. Exhausted blush sat on his round cheeks, and tracks of tears rolled downwards over pink, slightly chapped lips. Tears continued to fall silently, pooling at the corners of intense blue eyes before escaping down the marked pathways on Kurt's cheeks. Through all the hurt and the pain, Kurt was still shockingly beautiful. Blaine marveled at how despite the situation, Kurt still managed to take his breath away.

Kurt eyes met Blaine's, and once again Blaine wondered how one person could look so beautiful. Blaine took his hand to lightly brush the tears off Kurt's face, Kurt cursing the inappropriate blush at the gesture. Both of their eyes met and Kurt bit his lip.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The words floated easily into the air like the whisper of soft blowing wind. Kurt looked up at Blaine's face, seeing the honesty in his eyes and almost teared up for a different reason. The innocent question had introduced Kurt to a new feeling of pure vulnerability. Kurt lay here in Blaine's arms after such a terribly emotional ordeal and Blaine hadn't left. Blaine had simply been there for Kurt, as he always had. Kurt felt totally raw and exposed and it scared him at how beautiful and intimate this moment was. Kurt couldn't believe how Blaine could make him feel like this, totally exposed yet comfortable and completely safe. Kurt wondered is this was what love felt like.

The words spilled softly from Kurt's lips and into the open air. Kurt told Blaine the whole story. The accident, the memories, how alone and sad he felt, the guilt of not being strong after so many years of her being gone. He had completely opened himself up to Blaine on this topic and Blaine listened attentively, holding Kurt's hand, looking into his eyes.

When Kurt was finished, there was a moment of silence before Blaine surprisingly opened up to. He told Kurt about how he wasn't alone. He told Kurt about his brother, and how he had died in a bad boating accident. His brother was with some friends that weekend, and Blaine and him got in a fight before the brother left. Blaine had never gotten to say goodbye, and his last words were cruel fighting ones. By the end of his story, Blaine was crying, and Kurt was holding his hand.

Soon a momentary silence had filled the room, both boys minds now filled with thoughts of each other. Both boys had never before felt so exposed, so raw and deep in emotion. Neither of them had ever experienced this kind of openness or emotional connection with anybody before. This kind of emotional intimacy. It was truly beautiful.

Blaine and Kurt's faces were close, so close that their noses had bumped awkwardly together, their warm breathing trapped between them. Kurt's blue eyes were wide with nerves and anticipation, and Blaine watched as his tongue absentmindedly licked his lips.

Then Blaine's lips were suddenly attached to Kurt's, and all reason went out the window in a flash of emotional intensity mixed with a dash of teenage hormones. This was Kurt's first real kiss, and it was soft and gentle and beautiful, soon turning rough and passionate. Kurt couldn't believe what he was feeling. Kurt didn't think of his mom, or what this kiss meant, or him and Blaine's relationship or consequences of their actions because right now his minds only thought was Blaine. Blaine's delicious smell, the weight and pressure of his lips on his, his hands wandering to grip Kurt's hips and pull them closer together. His hair and light stubble tickling is face, the rustling of sheets as they sat up to get closer, not thinking but just simply being. Kurt needed Blaine, and Blaine needed Kurt. They needed each other and this need was taking over. This need for them to be with each other, to feel each other, to get as close to each other as possible and just _feel._

Blaine pulled back after what felt like a short eternity, gasping. Both boys were breathing heavily in the suddenly hot room. Kurt's face was flushed a delicious deep pink, eyes shyly looking at Blaine's face, lingering on Blaine's now slightly swollen lips. Kurt and Blaine were intertwined, Kurt lying on top of Blaine, legs slightly tangled.

Kurt bit his lip nervously as his eyes searched Blaine's face in apprehension. What if this kiss had ruined their relationship?

Blaine instead smiled in a shy way, and leaned down to kiss Kurt again, the two boys abandoning their pain, losing themselves in each her.


End file.
